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My hair smells like fresh air gone stale and The lines in my hands are engraved with dirt I took off my shoes, got a little wet, got a little muddy Went a little numb, but the excitement was worth it Climbed through sticks and trees, twigs and leaves Saw the sun at its peak and watched it disappear Squirrels rummaging, ducks quacking, people laughing Rode on four wheels with summertime music playing And on a different set with a familiar breeze at my neck 5 hours, 8 scrapes, 3 mud stains, 1 smile, 1 you The day pulled and pulled itself on through And there are plenty more adventures to come For this, this was just day one.
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Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:02 AM UTC
Day One. (March 2011)
My hair smells like fresh air gone stale and The lines in my hands are engraved with dirt I took off my shoes, got a little wet, got a little muddy Went a little numb, but the excitement was worth it Climbed through sticks and trees, twigs and leaves Saw the sun at its peak and watched it disappear Squirrels rummaging, ducks quacking, people laughing Rode on four wheels with summertime music playing And on a different set with a familiar breeze at my neck 5 hours, 8 scrapes, 3 mud stains, 1 smile, 1 you The day pulled and pulled itself on through And there are plenty more adventures to come For this, this was just day one.
julie-watson
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Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:02 AM UTC
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